When the Last Shot's Fired
by Whenfithitstheshan67
Summary: This is the final part in my trilogy. Sequel to When Simplicity is Lost and When Someone Gets Hurt. Set during TLO and the war of Manhattan. We start to really see these characters change throughout this book. Rated M for blood, gore and other jolly stuff like that. Updates will be slow to come. School, sports, it adds up. Dont hate me! PLEASE: WRITE A REVIEW IF YOU READ THIS!
1. Chapter 1

Big Luke

I had spent the last two weeks of the school year traveling around the country. I was driving my gloss black 1968 Dodge Charger R/T named KATE. KATE is a artificial intelligence program that my friend Brandon and I had created last school year, so, KATE can talk and drive herself amongst other tasks.

I live at a place outside of New York City called Camp Half-Blood. It's a place where demigods go to stay safe and train to fight monsters. That's right monsters. You've heard of the ancient Greek gods? Yeah, their real and so are all the monsters. They moved to the states with the main focus of Western Civilization. I am a son of Hephaestus, god of the forge.

Brandon Collins was a track athlete from Portland, Oregon. The eighteen year-old (almost nineteen) stood about five-ten and was built on the lean side. He had jet-black hair and brown eyes. He was a son of Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy. I wasn't sure yet if I was picking him up for camp or if he was flying in himself. The same went for my other good friend, David Yang.

David was only about five-six and not super buff. He had brown hair and also had brown eyes. He was almost eighteen. The guy had great eyesight, he can pick anything out that was hidden anywhere at great distances. He was also a great shot, the best at camp. He could hit the same spot each time on a piece of paper. I'd seen him do it. It didn't hurt that he was a son of Apollo.

At that moment, I was traveling North on I15 towards Butte, Montana. Through the stereo was a CD that another friend of mine, Brittany Hughes, had left in the center console. It was a Nickelback CD which was Modern Rock or Metal or something. Normally, I'm into Country or Southern Rock but listening to each track reminded me of Brittany.

Two years ago, Brandon, David and I saved her and her brother, Mathew's lives from a bunch of monsters that were chasing them. Afterward, Brittany developed a thing for me. I told her several times that I was just not interested in dating in general. Partly because of my job as a Strike Team leader for the camp, mostly because I lost my mom when I was seventeen. She moved on with her life at the end of last summer. We were still friends and I was still a father-figure of sorts to her younger brother.

One night back home, my mom and my step-dad, John, were fighting and John hit my mom. When I came at him, he put me on my back without breaking pace. I had stormed out of the house and my step-dad shot my mom in cold blood. Later that night, I came home to my step-dad's house covered in crime scene tape. My step-brother had gotten to the cops first with a fake alibi to keep John out of handcuffs. They later fell off the face of the Earth and I became a Marine. It was my fault that she died. If I hadn't left to join the Marine Corps, I might have been able to save her. I probably would have died with my mom but now I believe that I had the abilities to fight my step-brother and step-dad. I've made it my mission to kill them both for what they did.

Two weeks ago, I had asked Chiron, the camp's activities director, for a leave of absence. Normally, you're supposed to stay at camp unless you get a quest but since I am twenty-three, a Marine and a Strike Team leader, I can pretty much take care of myself. Things at camp had slowed down a bit so I wasn't missing much.

I guess I should say a former Strike Team leader. Brandon got hit in the shoulder last summer when we were trying to exfill from an abandoned trailer park/underground hospital. He survived the injury but I couldn't see myself telling his father that he was killed on my watch if he had died that day. It was the same thing with David. I never had to inform someone before that their kid was killed, not even when I was deployed. So, I told Chiron that I was done leading the Strike Team which meant that the team's actions were terminated.

So, I've been on the road ever since I asked for a vacation. I headed down South to my home town in Louisiana and visited my grandparents and Ray Ray, who is a family friend. Ray Ray taught me how to shoot and hunt when I was younger. He also had a moonshine still that I helped him with. Once I got my learner's permit, he had me run the shine from place to place.

After three nights at my grandparents' house, I headed west to Utah to the Bonneville Salt Flats and raced KATE against some of the fastest automobiles in the world. Nobody saw me because I had installed a active camouflage system on the skin of KATE's steel body. Nobody saw me or KATE but we pretty much smoked them all.

After leaving the salt flats, I spent some time driving around the Rocky Mountains. I really tried to avoid the Pacific Coast and the Mid-West because that's where Brandon and David lived during the school year. It's not that I didn't want to talk to them it's just that it was awkward when I broke my idea of terminating the Strike Team and that carried over to the friendship.

At the time, Brandon was hopped up on pain killers and ambrosia and nectar (gods food that demigods use for healing). David, who joined the team in the first place for an adventure, was greatly upset. Our friendship hasn't been quite the same since.

I weaved in and around the Rockies and eventually made my way to I15 North towards Montana. I was heading there because that's where Brittany and Mathew lived. They decided that it was time to move back home with their dad at the end of last summer.

I eventually came to where I15 North and I90 junction. I turned right to go East on I90 as I made my way to Livingston where Brittany was living. Mathew was staying with his dad in Billings. If she was seeing someone and living with them or living on her own, I didn't know. I just knew that I was going to meet her at the address she gave me and I would pick her up. After that the plan was to pick up her brother and head back to camp. I'd probably call Brandon and David to see what their plans were to get back to camp somewhere along the line.

I rolled into Livingston at around 1830 hours. I asked KATE to trace the route to Brittany's house and I followed the light blue line that appeared across the windshield. When I finally found the place, I pulled in the driveway next to a late model Camaro. It was orange with black racing stripes and black honeycomb wheels. When I stepped out of my own ride, I heard the pinging of the oil as the car cooled off. It had recently been parked which was understandable considering it was after six. I checked the shifter out of curiosity, it was a automatic shifter with a chrome T-handle and a black leather boot. I would have preferred a manual transmission but you can't have everything.

The house was a single story house with a two car garage on the right and two large windows on the left. The outside of the house was painted this light tan color and the front door was painted blue. It would have been a decent place to live with the scenery around Livingston.

Just after I looked at the house something crashed through one of the bedroom windows. Through the now open window, I heard Brittany screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Stop! Stop!" she screamed.

KATE popped the driver side door as if through instinct and I pulled my custom 1911 out of the center console. The gun had a black slide and a bare stainless steel frame with rosewood grips. I checked the magazine to see what kind of ammunition I had loaded up, today it was Celestial Bronze cased rounds. I slipped the safety into the OFF position and ran for the front door.

I kicked the thing right off the hinges and moved down the hallway with my 1911 raised. I came around the corner into the master bedroom where I saw Brittany laying down on the bed. Her pretty face was all bruised up and one of her clear blue eyes was black. She had a small cut over her eyebrow and blood dripping in the corner of her mouth. Her long blond hair was a mess.

I looked five feet from the foot of the bed where a man about six-foot and around two-hundred pounds of muscle was standing. He was wearing a gray tank-top and basketball shorts. He had a baseball cap turned around backwards on his egg shaped head. I noticed that some of his knuckles were bloody but also sported a few old scars.

Instantly, I pointed my weapon at the man and pulled the trigger once.

"No!" screamed Brittany.

The round just past right through the man and impaled itself into the wall behind him. He was definitely mortal, otherwise he would have exploded in dust and smoke. You can't always tell though, so it's good to shoot just to be sure.

I tossed my gun on the bed and waited as it was now useless.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man asked who apparently thought I missed or something.

"I'm a good friend of that girl your beating up," I replied.

"You know this prick?" the man asked Brittany who had tears running down her face.

She just nodded her head.

"You little bitch. Speak to me when I'm talking to you!" he yelled as he started waddling towards her again.

"Oh, no you don't," I said as I walked up to him and turned him around by his shoulder. "Haven't you heard, don't hit a lady?"

"What? You think your going to kick my ass?" he asked.

"Oh, kicking your ass would be my pleasure."

I punched the guy across the jaw but I didn't stop there. I punched him several more times and once I thought he looked worse than Brittany, I hauled him out of the room. He was so shocked that he didn't know what to do, I didn't even give him a chance to wail in pain. I tossed him down the hallway and kicked him in the ribs a few times. Then I hauled him to his feet and smashed his head against the walls several times as we moved towards the front door.

It was a brutal beating but I was pissed. I had seen my mom get beat up almost all my life and I hated it when I saw someone beating their spouse or girlfriend or boyfriend. I hated it when I was younger and I hated it now, especially since it was Brittany, one of my best friends. And nobody hurts my friends and gets away with it, nobody.

"You need a vacation," I said as I stood him up in front of the doorway.

"What do you mean? It's my fucking house!" he said as blood ran down his face and he spit out a few of his teeth.

"Yeah, well, I'm house-sitting for you," I said as I elbowed him in the nose and kneed him in the stomach and hauled him out onto the front lawn. "Feel lucky that your leaving with your life."

He scampered off clutching at his ribs. He tripped a few times but eventually he made his way out of the neighborhood.

I turned around and walked back inside the house and down the hallway. Just as I was about to enter the room, Brittany tackled me in a bear hug. She wouldn't stop crying into my nice navy blue button-up shirt. I hugged her back as she tried to pull herself together in the hallway.

"It's alright, Brittany," I allayed. "Your safe now."

"Thanks for coming, Jon Luke," she said between sobs and she wiped her tears on my shirt. She never did like my nickname.

"Your welcome," I replied.

Brittany was tall at six feet. She was wearing a red polo-shirt and faded blue jeans. The collar on her shirt was torn down the front a little so I could see her bra strap. She didn't seem to care as we stood there while she pulled her self together.

I had so many questions for her but I wasn't going to ask them at the moment. It just wasn't the time. I stood there, staring at the walls at the pictures on the wall. They were mostly of this guy that Brittany was seeing. I got tired of looking at his face intact and motioned for the front door.

"C'mon, let's go see your brother," I said as I ushered her towards the door. "You got everything you need?"

"No, I gotta pack a few things."

She stepped away from me and moved into one of the two bedrooms, not including the master. I walked back into the master bedroom and picked up my 1911 from the bed. I picked up the spent casing and walked out the front door. I replaced my 1911 in its spot in the console with the casing and walked back into the house and into the room that Brittany had walked into. I walked in on something that I should have seen coming.

Brittany had taken her shirt off and was about to put another one on when I walked in.

"Oops, my bad," I exclaimed as I turned around with my hand over my eyes.

I heard her sigh behind me. "It's fine." I waited another second or two to let her put the shirt on. "You can look now," she said and I tuned around.

Now she was wearing a light blue T-shirt. She brushed her hair behind her ear and stood there crossing her arms. She looked at me in the eyes for a second then walked over to a closet and pulled a suitcase out. She laid the black case the size of a small refrigerator on the bed and unzipped the lid.

"You need any help?" I asked.

"Sure, can you go grab my toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom?" she requested.

I nodded and walked towards the bathroom. Upon first look, the bathroom looked relatively normal, one shower, one toilet, one sink but two toothbrushes. One was pink and the other was green and both were sitting in a glass on the counter. I grabbed the pink one, figuring it was Brittany's, and the tube of toothpaste that was sitting on the counter. I started rummaging through the drawers to find something to put the toothbrush in. I eventually found a box of plastic Zip-Lock bags and grabbed several, you never know when a plastic bag could come in handy. I put the toothbrush in one of them and walked out.

"I'm guessing the pink one's yours?" I asked, looking down at the toothbrush.

When I looked up at Brittany, she was sitting next to the suitcase with her head in her hands. I walked over and sat down on the bed next to her. I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me again.

"Why did I fall for that guy?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered the probably rhetorical question.

My next question would have been why did she stay but I heard a cop car's sirens swirl in the driveway once and stopped.

"This should be good," I said still sitting on the bed.

I waited for a few minutes for a police officer to walk into the room with us. My shine running days were starting to catch up with me as I felt the urge to jump out the window and run for it. I fought the instinct and stayed put.

The cop was probably in his forties and had a really short haircut with a small mustache. His brown uniform was bulging out as if he was wearing body armor. He had is Glock 17 drawn but he dropped his aim when he saw that I was unarmed.

"Good evening. I'm Deputy Gatling. I have a couple of questions to ask you if that would be alright," he asked me.

"Am I under arrest?" I asked in return.

"Not yet," replied the deputy.

"Shoot," I offered.

He asked if we could step outside but I insisted that I stay right where I was. I had a feeling I knew why the deputy showed up. I didn't want to leave Brittany because of her emotional state, and she could back up my story.

"OK, did you assault a man named Chris Hope earlier today?" he asked eying my dog tags that hung on the outside of my shirt and my slightly bloody knuckles.

"His last name is Hope?" I asked Brittany who chuckled sarcastically.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I would say that I was responding to screams from my good friend here. I walked into the house and found her being beat up. She appeared fearful for her life so I took action," I said to Gatling who was writing everything I said down on a notepad.

"How come you didn't kill him in self-defense?"

"Because when I got a hold of him, I was no longer in fear for her life."

"Can you confirm that?" Gatling asked Brittany.

She just nodded.

"OK, well, he didn't tell me that. I should also tell you that he is planning to press charges for assault and battery against you," Gatling informed me. "Can I see some identification from both of you?"

I slowly leaned over and pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. You have to do it slowly so they don't think your pulling a weapon. Deputy Gatling held his pen against his notepad with his thumb as he placed his hand on the grip of his Glock, I guess he was a little nervous after seeing my dog tags and hearing what Chris had probably said about my gun. I pulled out my Louisiana driver's license and handed it the deputy and Brittany pulled her ID.

"Your a long ways away from Louisiana, Jon Luke," Gatling said, staring at my license.

My real name is Jon Luke but everybody at camp calls me Big Luke because I'm six-four, two-forty of muscle. I know I'm a big guy and probably could whip this deputy no problem but I decided to cooperate. He was just doing his job.

"I'm on a road trip," I responded.

"Then how did you two meet?"

"We were both in Oregon at the same time and we ran into each other. After that, we just clicked," responded Brittany.

"You two dating?" Gatling asked.

"No," we both responded simultaneously.

"Look, if he is going to press charges on Jon Luke, then I'm going to press charges on him," threatened Brittany.

I was thankful and proud of her at the same time. For one, she was helping me stay out of handcuffs. And two, she was standing up to this creep, Chris.

"You want me to call him or do you want to tell him that yourself?" asked Gatling.

I suddenly had a new found respect for Deputy Gatling. He seemed as if he was on my side in this matter. He was willing to give Chris a call to deliver the threat to him, himself.

"You better do it," said Brittany who was trying really hard to keep herself pulled together.

He nodded and stepped out of the room with a cell phone. He stood in the hallway to make the call.

I looked at Brittany who stared back. "Thank you," I said.

"I missed you," she said as she leaned her head back on my shoulder.

"Missed you too," I replied.

"I can't let my dad or Mathew see me like this," she mentioned.

"Your a daughter of Aphrodite. You were born to make yourself look pretty. You can hide this no problem," I said and she smiled.

Deputy Gatling walked in and closed his flip phone.

"Well, he dropped the charges but he had a few particular words for you both. I think it's safe to say that you and this guy aren't seeing each other anymore," he informed us.

I stood up and extended my hand to Deputy Gatling and he shook it. "I guess that means we're done here?" I asked.

"Yep, I've served and protected. I've done my job," he said. "Have a good rest of your evening."

Before he left, I had one more question for the deputy. "Hey, Deputy Gatling? What injuries did Mr. Hope sustain?"

He smiled and turned around, "He sustained three broken ribs, a broken nose, a concussion, and his face was beaten to a pulp. All that and a bruised ego."

"OK, thank you," I said.

He stepped out and I heard his car leave the driveway through the still open door. I had kicked the door off the hinges and I was not planning on fixing it.

I helped Brittany finish packing and we left the house. I spent a good five minutes trying to rearrange my own luggage which took up half the space as Brittany's did, probably less. Then I had to stuff the trunk of the Charger with Brittany's fridge sized suitcase. I climbed in the front seat and KATE started her engine.

"That his Camaro?" I asked Brittany who had been waiting for me in the shotgun seat.

"Yeah, please don't blow it up. You've gotten yourself in enough trouble already today," she told me, probably seeing on my face that I really wanted to.

"Aw!" I whined.

She smiled at me and I put the car in reverse. I backed out of the driveway and left the neighborhood. We traveled along I90 East as we headed for Billings. I drove at the speed limit pretty much, no need to speed because we weren't in a big hurry. We didn't roll into Billings until 2130 hours or so and Brittany figured that was way too late to pick up Mathew.

"So, what do you want to do then?" I asked as we sat in the parking lot of a Olive Garden.

"We could go in and have dinner?" she suggested.

During the drive she had taken some ambrosia and nectar and her bruises were starting to heal up quite a bit. Whatever hadn't healed up she was able to cover with makeup. If we went in there, nobody would shoot me dirty looks as if I was the one that hit her.

I knew I could never win an argument with her so I just went with it. We walked inside and had a nice supper, with the exception of the waiter asking about the mascara and small blood stains on my shirt. I just dodged the question and continued eating my meal. Afterward, we got back in the car and tried to find a hotel with rooms available. I specifically asked every hotel that we called for a room with two beds. Just my luck, every single hotel in all of Billings only had single bedrooms available. So, we booked a room and that was the end of it.

"Well, alright then," said Brittany who apparently had a little too much wine at supper.

I, on the other hand, didn't have even a sip of alcohol. It was my tradition that I only drank when I was cleaning my guns, and it was always Coors. So, needless to say, I was able to drive.

We pulled into the parking lot and we stepped out of the car, or I should say I stepped out of the car. Brittany just put her feet on the ground but didn't get up.

"Jon Luke, carry me," she beckoned.

"Bo, you're drunk. Not helpless, hogtied, or crippled," I responded.

"So? Carry me," she held her arms out so her hands laid limp, begging me to carry her. "Mr. Valet Boy, will you tell this man to be a gentleman and carry me to our room?" she asked the valet who was standing right next to me.

"You should do it, sir. Hell hath no fury like woman scorned," said the valet.

"Yeah? Though I walk through the valley in the Shadow of Death, I fear no evil for I am the baddest motherfucker around," I replied and he laughed.

In the end, I ended up carrying Brittany up to our room. She opened the door with the key card and I stepped inside with her cradled in my arms. I laid her down on the bed and handed her the remote to the TV. I headed back down to KATE and asked the valet to help grab our bags. KATE would drive off when the valet or anybody else wasn't looking. I took the heavy suitcase which was Brittany's and I let the valet carry the light one.

When we stepped into the room, Brittany's shirt, jeans, shoes and socks were on the floor by the bed. Brittany herself was laying on the bed in a white bathrobe. She was laying across the bed with her head resting on her hand and her feet almost off the side as if she was auditioning for a photo shoot.

I pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to the valet over my shoulder. "Beat it," I told him and he was out the door.

"Hey you," Brittany said drunkenly, then bit her finger.

"That's it, no more wine for you," I said as I took a seat on the edge of the bed.

I started taking off my boots and Brittany walked on her knees and wrapped her arms around my chest. Then she started kissing my neck; that's where I drew the line. Don't get me wrong, she was attractive. She was naturally tan and her skin was smooth as a baby's bottom. I just was never good with relationships. I didn't know if I'd be able to handle losing someone like when I lost my mom.

"Look Bo, your a very attractive young woman," I started as I stood up and faced her. "But I've never had a girlfriend or let alone made out with anyone."

Brittany gasped, "Are you gay?"

I raised one eyebrow, "No. I just don't want to become emotionally attached to anyone. It compromises the mission."

"You work too hard. You need to ease up a little. Forget about the mission for a bit," she said as she grabbed my shirt and pulled me over onto the bed. Brittany could Charmspeak and her voice was damp with it. "Besides, maybe I can teach you a few things."

She started kissing me as she rolled me over onto my back. Her lips and tongue tasted of grapes and alcohol. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it. Her eyes were looking heavy as she started to unbutton my shirt, our tongues still intertwined with each others. I pulled away for a split second. The primal side of my brain was saying _Fuck her! fuck her brains out! _But the rational side of my brain was advising me: _This can turn out very badly._

"Brittany, are you sure about this?" I asked.

"Shut up, Jarhead, and kiss me," she replied and I complied to her demands.

She continued to unbutton my shirt but I could see on her face that she was fading fast and it wouldn't be long before it would be over. She passed out before she got to the fourth button. Brittany rolled a half turn so she was facing away from me and fell asleep. Just as I suspected, it was over just as quick as it began.

I laid there on my back thinking about what might have happened if she didn't pass out. And the repercussions later if it had. I recited the Pledge of Allegiance a few times and eventually, I drifted off to sleep as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Big Luke

The next morning, I woke up before Brittany and took a shower. It was still rather early so I let her sleep in. I had taken a clean set of clothes into the bathroom with me along with my shirt from yesterday. That way I could try to get the stains out in the sink. I got most of the mascara out but there was still some of Chris' blood on the cuff of the sleeve. _War trophy, _I thought as I rubbed on the stain.

I stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed. I saw that Brittany was awake and was examining the white bathrobe that she was still wearing. The cut above her eye was practically nonexistent. Her hair was a little bit of a mess but it still looked good if you asked me. She looked at me with this mixed look of confusion and shock.

"Jon Luke? Did we do something last night?" she asked.

"You don't remember?" I asked back.

"I remember you carrying me up here but I'm a little fogged over after that," she responded staring at the loose clothes on the floor. "Did you put me in this or did I?"

"You did. I went back down stairs to get our bags and when I came back you had changed into that. I tipped the valet-."

"The valet saw me like this?" she asked with shock in her voice.

I nodded. "You really want to know the rest?"

"Please, tell me I didn't do anything with the valet," she asked anxiously. She really didn't remember what happened.

"No, you didn't but you almost did something with me," I replied. "You passed out before you could get my shirt off."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't push you too hard, did I?"

"A little but I didn't put up much of a fight," I replied. "You want some breakfast?"

"Not that crappy hotel breakfast, is it?" she whined.

"I'm already paying for it. Might as well use it. Hey, maybe they'll have biscuits and gravy!" I said with fake enthusiasm and she laughed.

"Ow," she said as she placed her palm on her forehead. "Think ambrosia can cure a hangover?"

"I don't think so. You're probably just going to have to live with it for a little while," I said.

"Stop yelling," she complained still holding her forehead.

I smiled, thinking back on my first hangover. "You want me to wait for you up here or do you want to meet me down in the breakfast room?"

"Could you wait for me?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied and laid back down on the bed.

I grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. I started rifling through the channels attempting to find something decent to watch. Brittany just stared at me with the same kind of look she gave me last night. I didn't even have to glance at her to know that she was looking at me, I could just feel it.

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks for being a good sport," she said.

"You're welcome," I replied with a little smirk as she stood up and opened up her suitcase to pick out something to wear for that day.

She finally found something and moved into the bathroom to shower. I sat there patiently flipping through the channels. There was nothing really on so pressing the button on the remote was more entertaining than anything. I easily got bored and walked over to my suitcase.

I pulled out my 1911 that I had snuck into the bag last night when the valet wasn't looking, and a cleaning kit. I walked over to the table and started to clean the weapon. I just kind of let my hands work as my mind rambled on.

Today, I had to give David and Brandon a call to see if they were going to fly to camp on their own and I would pick them up at the airport. I had a feeling that Brandon was going to be a few days late since he was graduating high school. David still had another year to go. Then there was the little dude, twelve year old Mathew. And then his dad who didn't like me for some reason.

I was just putting the slide back on my 1911's frame when Brittany walked into the room behind me.

"Gods, that stuff stinks," she complained, referring to fumes of the cleaning solvent I was using.

"I'll admit, the smell of burnt gunpowder is better, but it's really not that bad," I replied, cycling the action a few times to work the lubrication on the slide rails.

I slipped the magazine back in the gun and chambered a round. I would have to remember to put another round in the mag to top it off.

"You ready to go to breakfast?" I asked.

Brittany was packing up her suitcase as I put my 1911 back in my own suitcase.

"Yeah, just about. I need to put my shoes on," she replied which reminded me that I also had to put my boots on.

I stood up and walked over to where my boots were left at the foot of the bed. I sat down and started lacing up the size fourteen black, eight inch tall gunboats right next to Brittany who was lacing up her small white sneakers. She put her shoe up next to mine. The difference in size was astronomical, my foot was almost twice as long and certainly double the width. Brittany had dancer's feet, small and narrow. I had soldiers feet, big and wide.

"Holy cow!" she exclaimed as she gawked at my foot.

"Yeah. I know it's big. You ready?" I asked.

We stood up and walked out with our luggage. Like a gentleman, I carried everything. Lucky for me, Brittany's nylon refrigerator had little plastic wheels so it rolled easily. When we made it to the bottom, I walked out and placed our bags in KATE's trunk. Brittany stayed inside and grabbed us a table in the breakfast room.

"Good morning, Jon Luke," greeted KATE when I walked up to her trunk.

"Morning," I responded.

"How was your evening in a single-bed hotel room with Brittany?" she asked as I stuffed the trunk with the gigantic suitcase.

"It went fine," I replied, trying to play it off.

"Does she know about the other woman in your life?" she asked.

"KATE, I told you not to mention her again," I scolded her. "Like I said, she is just a friend from my childhood. We went out for drinks to catch up. It was a one time deal."

The second part was true, it was the only time I went out for a drink without cleaning my gun. It was also the first time I had to initiate KATE's autopilot while I was still in the car. The first part however, was a little, tiny, itty, bitty, little, white lie. We kind of dated for a while before I shipped out to the Marines.

It was the last night I was in town down in Louisiana on my vacation. That night, we went out for drinks and then a night on the riverside. We started out just talking about old times and then I kissed her to some old Alabama in my drunken state. Our faces never left each others until sunup. I drove her home and skipped town. She said that she wanted to see me again but I wasn't sure. It was complicated.

Her name was Penny Ann. She was earning her Master's at LSU in agriculture. Why she needed her degree in that was beyond me; she grew up on a farm her whole life. She was average height and had been since seventh grade. That night, she was wearing some Daisy Duke shorts and a flannel shirt with a white tube-top underneath. The flannel shirt was tied up in the back. She was wearing the same New Orleans Saints baseball cap that she had since tenth grade turned backwards on her long brown hair. She was all tanned up from working in the sun all day at the university. Something was different from what I remembered; she had a barbed-wire tattoo going around her left bicep.

"And you better not tell Brittany about her," I threatened my car.

"My lips are sealed," said the car.

People walking down the street were staring at me as I talked at my car and wagged my finger. One guy almost tripped and fell on his face.

"That's what you said last time. You don't even have lips!" I exclaimed as I heard footsteps behind me.

"What last time?" I heard Brittany's voice say behind me.

I turned around and she was standing with most of her weight on her right foot and her fists on her hips. She had this stern look on her face that I swear, could stare into my soul.

"If you don't tell her, I will," threatened KATE.

"And if you do, I'll reinstall you into a minivan!" I countered. "I got the perfect one picked out for you: Chrysler Town & Country because Cadillac doesn't make a minivan."

KATE paused for a minute. "Touche."

"Since when does she speak French?" asked Brittany. "You know what? I don't care. What did she say last time? When was this last time?"

I was thinking of a way to dodge this bullet. If I admit that I had kissed another girl after telling Brittany that I wasn't interested in dating, it would screw up our whole relationship... and my vacation.

"Last time, she said that her lips were sealed and I told her that was impossible because she doesn't have lips," I explained.

Brittany walked up to me and grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer so our noses were inches apart. Those clear blue eyes were wide with anticipation. She was thoroughly pissed and she didn't even know why. "Jon Luke? What are you not telling me?"

"Promise you'll keep an open mind and remember that you're practically my best friend," I joked trying to lighten the mood of the situation.

"I promise," she said coldly. Still grasping my shirt.

"When I was in Roswell, I got you something," I told her. "KATE, open the door and flip the seat."

KATE has shaved doorhandles so she needs to open her doors for you. I squeezed in the backseat and felt under the bench for a plastic bag. My hand grazed the noisy material and I grabbed it. I climbed out of the backseat and held the bag open. I pulled a T-shirt out of the bag and handed it to Brittany. She unfolded the black tee and read the front.

"The truth is out there?" she asked.

"Do you know what happened in Roswell, New Mexico that was significant?"

"Yeah, didn't Zeus get pissed and knock a weather balloon out of the sky or something?" she suggested.

"Yeah, that's a quote from the X Files TV show," I said. "I got your brother something else that I think he's really gonna like."

"Well, thank you," she said with a smile as she walked towards the trunk of the car.

KATE popped the deck lid and Brittany put the T-shirt in her suitcase. I had to help her close the deck lid so we could go to breakfast.

After breakfast, we headed over to Brittany's dad's house to pick up Mathew. I knew I was already in the hot seat with their dad but I still parked my hot-rod in front of their house. I could tell her dad was there because his old, sky-blue pickup was out front. We walked up to the door and Brittany knocked. The door opened and the big man standing there was Brittany's dad.

Mr. Hughes was the only mortal guy that I had ever met that was bigger than me. He was six-six with big brawny shoulders. He had the same blond hair as Mathew and Brittany but he kept it real short. I didn't know what he did for a living, but it kept him in shape and helped him afford a nice house.

Did I mention that the house was huge? We were out in the hills outside of Billings on a huge ranch. It was two stories tall and had several rooms. Much of the outside was glass so you could see inside. He had many trophies around the house, I saw several elk heads, several deer, and a eight-foot tall brown bear standing up in the living room. The taxidermy was so well done that it looked as if it was still snarling at whoever stepped into the room.

Brittany's dad was not short on guns either. In every room of the house there was some kind of weapon, whether is was the Remington 870 shotgun by the door or the Glock in the end table drawer in the living room. Brittany had even told me about the derringer in the cookie jar. I was surprised that they never went shooting or hunting. I had one rifle when I was kid and I used it all the time.

"Daddy!" squealed Brittany as she wrapped her dad in a bear hug.

"How you doing, Pumpkin?" he asked in a deep voice. "That guy you were staying with not treating you right?"

"You were right," she admitted. "I should have come home a long time ago."

"He didn't hit you, did he?" asked her dad, holding her by the shoulders so he could look into her eyes.

Brittany just nodded and leaned into him again.

"I'm going over there."

Before he left he noticed me for the first time. He took a look at my scratched knuckles and tried to process the information.

"Did you hit my daughter?" he asked me.

"No way, sir. Never would dream of it, sir," I replied.

"If you ever decide to break that promise, I'll break your neck," he threatened.

"You got a deal, sir," I replied.

"And I told you before not to call me Sir," he told me.

"Sorry, Mr. Hughes. Old habit."

"Daddy, be nice. Jon Luke is nothing but good to me," Brittany told her father.

"And it better stay that way," he said not taking his eyes off me. "Why don't you guys come inside. Mathew will be happy to see you."

I stepped inside the doorway after Brittany and followed her and her dad down the hallway. Mr. Hughes motioned for us to sit down in the living room then stepped away. I walked in but just stood at ease with my hands behind my back. Brittany had other plans as she pushed me onto the couch with a little grin on her face.

"Don't give him anymore reasons to hate you," she told me, taking a seat on the couch next to me. "Believe it or not, you're his favorite out of all the guys I brought home to meet him."

I raised an eyebrow. "He sure shows it well," I said sarcastically.

"He let you in his house. I'd seen him point that shotgun by the door at a guy who came within twenty yards of his front step," she explained. "It took ten minutes to get him to put it down."

We heard Mathew run down the stairs and Brittany stood up to meet him.

"Brittany!" he exclaimed and tackled his sister in a big hug.

Mathew had grown a few inches and was now around five-three. He buzzed his blonde hair and started wearing brighter Nike shoes. It looked like he was getting to that tween stage in his life. He walked up to me and I extended my fist. He returned the gesture by bumping it with his.

"You get in another fight?" he asked as he eyed my knuckles.

"You could say that," I replied. "How you been, little dude?"

"I've been alright."

"Damn, kid. You've grown up a little in the past year," I noticed. "You're not that little kid anymore."

"Yep, I've grown up," he replied.

"Kid, you still have a lot of life ahead of you. Don't get cocky just yet," I told him.

"So, they tell me that they spent a year running away from a bunch of gangsters that wanted them dead?" asked Mr. Hughes who was leaning up against the wall by the stuffed bear.

For the most part, demigods are not supposed to tell their mortal parents about the Olympians. It could potentially drive them crazy. Some of the parents could see through the Mist which is this magic veil that clouds most mortals minds so they cant process the things us demigods can see. Some mortals could handle it but most couldn't.

"That's right, Mr. Hughes," I replied as I stood up from the couch. "I told you last summer that I helped them get away from all that."

I had dropped the Hughes siblings off at this same address last summer. Mathew had come up with the crazy story but it seemed to work.

"What I don't get is why would the gang be after my kids?"

"I think it had something to do with your land, sir." I responded. I had said "Sir" again to help change to subject.

"I told you not to call me sir. You don't listen well, do you?" he asked.

"Daddy, be nice!" exclaimed Brittany.

"Do you always let my daughter fight your battles for you?"

"No, Mr. Hughes, I don't. Just yesterday I gave a guy three broken ribs, a broken nose, a concussion, and I beat his face to a pulp for your daughter. Brittany is one of my best friends and I wouldn't let anything happen to her or Mathew and go unpunished," I replied confidently.

"I would have killed him," replied Mr. Hughes.

"I didn't feel like going to prison," I countered. "Otherwise, I would've."

"So, where are you going now?" asked Mr. Hughes.

"Well, there is this gymnastics camp in New York. I'll be staying with Jon Luke while I'm there and there is a baseball camp that the New York Yankees are putting on," lied Brittany to her father. "Mathew is already signed up."

"And who's paying for this? You?" he asked me. "What do you do for a living?"

"I have a few connections with the Yankees and the academy that is putting on the gymnastics camp," I responded. "I am a martial arts instructor, myself, and I train a lot of the people on the team."

"And who's your connection at the academy?"

"She's an ex-girlfriend," I replied and Brittany shot me a dirty look. I know I was going to hear all about that one on the way back to camp.

"OK, well. You guys have fun," said Mr. Hughes to his kids. "I'll see you guys in September, OK?"

"Yes, Dad," the Hughes siblings said together as they had a group hug with their dad.

I just kind of stood there as the small family had their moment. I stared at the bear. Its paw was outstretched behind him as if he was going to swipe at something. Its mouth was open as it displayed his razor sharp teeth. I was pretty sure that Mr. Hughes had shot the bear but that didn't stop me from wondering if the animal was about to kill him when he did.

"And you," Mr. Hughes looked at me. "You take care of my kids. You hear?"

"They are safe with me," I replied as I extended my hand towards him. "I promise."

"I'll shake your hand when you bring them back," he told me and I put my hand back down.

Brittany and Mathew said goodbye to their father again and we left the almost mansion sized house. We got back in the Charger and Brittany leaned in and kissed me on the cheek in front of her dad who was standing on the front step. Instantly, I blushed and couldn't get the car out of the driveway fast enough.

"What was that for?" I asked Brittany as we sped down the freeway.

"To make you sweat," she said with a smirk. "And for lying to my dad about having an ex-girlfriend at a dance academy."

"Gymnastics academy," I corrected.

"Whatever!" she exclaimed.

"So, how was your guys' night?" asked Mathew from the back seat. "You're a day late."

I slouched in my seat and Brittany stared out the window. Neither of us wanted to answer the question.

"What did you guys do?" he asked. We still stayed silent. "You know I'm a son of Aphrodite. I can sorta figure it out when two people had done something that they are not proud of. You two fit that bill."

"Mathew-"

"My friends call me Matt," he interrupted.

"You have friends?" I joked with the tween.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically.

"OK, _Matt_, we didn't do anything," I explained as I stared out the windshield so I didn't have to meet his eyes.

"I beg to differ," he replied.

"Mathew, just drop it," ordered Brittany who was rubbing her forehead. Apparently, she was still suffering from the hangover.

I asked KATE to call one of my good friends from my deployment and talked to him about getting a lift back to New York. He agreed to meet us on I90 heading East in about a half an hour. Which he did, right on schedule, the C-130 aircraft soared over our heads and landed on the freeway ahead of us. The ramp dropped and I drove the Charger up it.

We stepped out of the car and I strapped KATE in place by wrapping the tie-downs around her axles and secured them to the floor of the aircraft. I took a seat in one of the jumper's on the side of the fuselage next to Brittany. She rested her head on my shoulder and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

David

I felt the flight attendant's hand shake my shoulder and I opened my eyes.

"We're landing, sir," she informed me.

"OK. Thank you," and she left.

I was on a plane that was about to land at the JFK Airport in New York. I had gotten a call from Big Luke earlier before my flight and he had asked if I needed a ride to camp after I landed in New York. I told him I'd take a cab.

I stepped out of the airport with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I hailed a cab and gave directions to the country road that goes past Camp Half-Blood. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to take the cab all the way to camp and I'd have to walk part of the way. It was just a matter of time before the cabby asked me to get out and I was on my own for the last few miles of my journey.

I had walked the same route every summer since I was twelve, with the exception of last summer where Big Luke swung by and picked me up at my house. I had my duffel bag slung over my shoulder with my quiver full of arrows on my back and my compound bow in my left hand in case the need arose. I nocked an arrow to save time. There was little to no traffic on the road so I wasn't too worried about anybody stopping me and questioning me on the matter.

It was hot and I was thankful for the baseball cap on my head and the sunglasses over my eyes. My white T-shirt helped reflect the sun. Except my jeans were hot and my basketball shoes were not easy to walk in.

I was looking down on the ground as I came around a corner. When I looked up, I saw something that nearly made me wet myself. There was a pack of about two dozen wolves crossing the dirt road. I saw them and they saw me.

These weren't regular wolves. Most of them were about the size of a full-size bear and had these golden eyes with blood red pupils. They had normal colored fur but the older looking ones had several scars around there faces and on their shoulders like they had gotten in a lot of fights. A good ten or twelve of them started to slowly approach me and bared their razor sharp teeth.

I was still a good mile and a half from camp and was all alone. The wolves started to surround me and back me up against a tree. I was thoroughly screwed if I didn't find something to do. If I drew back the arrow, the wolves would charge and I'd most likely be killed. I would be in less trouble if I had my MP7 sub-machine gun that I had used the last two summers. However, it was always left at camp during the school year since it was hard to get on a plane.

I decided I couldn't stand here the rest of my life and not do anything, so I slowly set down my bow and un-nocked the arrow and held it in my hand. I turned my hat around on my head and bent my knees a little to prepare myself.

I was getting impatient. "Come on!" I yelled and the first wolf came at me.

I stepped to side and dug the arrow head into the wild dog's side, making it explode into dust. I was about to turn back towards the rest of the pack when I was tackled from behind by another wolf. I rolled over and stuck the wolf in the neck and was showered in the monster's dust.

I tried to sit up but the circle around me grew tighter. I was starting to lose hope, it wasn't looking good. But then I heard a noise that I swear, made my day: the sound of KATE's engine roaring through the trees as the Charger grew closer. I couldn't help but chuckle as each dog in the circle closed their mouths and tilted their heads to the new sound.

The Charger came around the corner and I saw Big Luke do a double-take and put a smile on his face. His right arm moved as if he was pulling the parking brake. The car spun around as he jerked the wheel to the left. The car came to a stop with the grill pointing in my direction and dust that was kicked into the air. Big Luke and Brittany both stepped out of the car armed with pistols, Big Luke had his 1911 and Brittany was using a Sig Sauer P226 that was kept in the door. I had seen Brittany shoot before and was not comfortable at all where I was sitting.

I got to my feet as fast as I could and jumped into the forest and took cover behind a tree. The two opened fire and I could hear the yelps of the wolves as they exploded into dust. There were several pauses as Big Luke had to reload his .45.

I took a sneak peak from behind the tree and saw Brittany taking her time with each shot and missing every third one. She held her tongue out the left corner of her mouth and I'm sure that behind her big, bug-eyed sunglasses that her eyes were filled with concentration. Big Luke was double-tapping each dog in rapid succession without missing much at all. His reloads were lightning quick and you could tell that it was all muscle memory for him. He had a small smirk on his face as he played wack-a-mole with a handgun and used the wolves as his moles.

I stepped out from behind the tree after all of the shooting stopped.

"Nice shades," said Brittany.

"Thanks," I said, picking up my bow and duffel bag. "And, uh, thanks for saving my life."

"No problem," Big Luke replied. "How you been?"

"Not too bad," I replied. "Nothing like a fight with a pack of wolves to get you back in the groove of things."

Big Luke offered me a ride to camp and I accepted. He said that I was going to have to put my bag on my lap since the trunk was jam packed with all of the other luggage in the trunk. I held my duffel bag and bow in my lap as I sat in the back seat with Mathew who stayed there during the shootout.

I was kind of hoping that Big Luke had changed his mind about abolishing the Strike Team and would rebuild the Kill House that used to be this big, sixty-foot square, plywood building that we used to train in between operations. It had burned down last summer during an invasion at the camp.

We started down the one lane road that just wide enough to support KATE's wide width. The road led to the concrete platform that used to support the Kill House, apparently he never rebuilt the plywood building.

Under said concrete platform was an underground workshop that Big Luke had built to store weaponry and work on various projects of his, one of which was KATE. I always wondered where the name KATE came from, I just never asked Big Luke.

"So, Big Luke, where did the name KATE come from?" I asked as he drove the Charger down the ramp under the concrete platform.

"My mom's name was Kaitlin," he replied. "Just thought it was a good way to pay tribute to her."

The Charger came to a complete stop and we all stepped out. Big Luke took a seat at a table with his 1911 and the P226 from earlier in his hands. He grabbed a couple cleaning kits and started to clean the weapons, starting with the .45. I picked up the P226 and started to disassemble it. Brittany walked up behind Big Luke with her sunglasses on top of her head, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks for the ride," she told him.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smirk as he continued to clean his handgun.

I waited till Mathew and Brittany were gone to start asking questions.

"What was that all about?"

"I don't know. She's been doing it a lot lately," he replied.

"You seem to be enjoying it," I noticed.

Big Luke just grinned, not confirming nor denying my inference.

About a week and a half later, Brandon came back from Portland. He had graduated high school with a 4.0 and was on a full ride track scholarship to the University of Oregon. He was well off for the next four years of his life, assuming he survived the Titan War.

About two weeks after that, Chiron had called Brandon and I into his apartment at around ten at night. We met up in the courtyard in between the cabins and started walking towards the Big House where Chiron would be waiting for us.

We knocked on the door and Chiron answered. He gestured for us to walk in and we did. Like whenever he called us into his apartment to talk to us about stuff, he offered us a seat and we respectfully refused and stood.

"OK, Chiron. What can we do for you?" asked Brandon.

"Actually, I have a job for you guys. If your looking for it," he replied. "Look, I know Big Luke did not wish to continue operations but the truth is, the camp needs a team that is dedicated to war tasks. I would like you to keep it up."

"I don't know," I replied. "The team isn't quite the same without Big Luke."

"Are we going behind his back or can we tell him?" Brandon asked Chiron.

"I'm going to leave that decision to you guys," answered Chiron.

"You're not seriously considering this. Are you?" I asked Brandon who was looking at the floor.

We were at a serious disadvantage without Big Luke. He had all of the experience and leadership capabilities. Brandon was a great tactician but he lacked the battlefield commanding skills that Big Luke possessed. Not to mention: a third set of hands would, for sure, come in handy.

"Don't tell me you don't want to," he replied. "You and I both know that Big Luke made a mistake by abolishing the Strike Team last summer."

"Alright, fine!" I gave in. "We'll have to break into the underground shop to get our stuff but we should be able to pull this off. What's the job?"

"I need you guys to tie up a loose end. Craig is a son of Ares and an informant for Kronos' army. He had suspected that he was the spy that I was talking about the other day. So, he left to go report back to Kronos. He has a piece of delicate information that I do not want in their hands," Chiron explained. "I need you to eliminate him before he talks."

"What do we do if he has already spilled it to them?" asked Brandon.

"Well, the information that he has will probably compromise your secrecy. They might try to play you and make it look like the monsters that he went to, have taken him prisoner. They will expect you to try and free him. Do so, bring him back and we will expose him as the spy," he explained. "However, if this is the case: expect him to turn on you."

We ended the meeting after getting a location and a picture of the target. We headed out into the woods to the concrete platform, carefully avoiding the group of cabins as not to set anyone off. Brandon pulled on the rope to open the trapdoor and we walked down the stairs. We started to gather our gear together for the operation. We were definitely going to have to borrow KATE for this one.

"Is Jon Luke going to be joining us tonight?" asked KATE, after greeting us casually.

"No, KATE. It's just us tonight," I replied, checking out my M110. "And, uh, we would appreciate it if you didn't tell Big Luke about this."

"Didn't tell Big Luke about what?" I heard Big Luke's voice ask behind me.

I turned around with my best _Oh, yeah. About that... _grin. "Brandon, help me out here," I whispered.

"Look, Big Luke, it's not what it looks like," started Brandon.

"Oh, don't give me that horseshit. Just because I'm a shine-running-redneck doesn't mean that I'm stupid. Chiron gave you guys a job behind my back," said Big Luke. "What's the job?"

"The case file is on KATE's hood," I answered.

Big Luke walked over and started looking through the manilla folder with all of the paperwork for the op (Yes. Even Camp Half-Blood's elite Strike Team has to do paperwork. We have a filing cabinet with all of our case files and final reports inside). He held the picture up to the light.

"Son of Ares eh?" he asked, probably rhetorically. "This is a bit different than what we're used to."

"Does that mean you're in?" I asked.

"You know, the camp needs a team that's dedicated to war efforts. There is nobody else that Chiron trusts more than the three of us, right here," Brandon put in.

"There is a real good chance that we don't make it out of this war alive. You understand that right? Brandon, does your dad even know that your a part of the Strike Team? Does he know that you got shot last summer? Does he know that you died and we had to restart your heart with a defibrillator?" Big Luke brought up some really good points that I'm sure he had thought of before but he never told us. "David, what do we tell your mom if you got killed? She knows nothing about this war, nothing about the gods or anything."

Brandon always had the perfect comeback, "Well, aren't we going to be sucked into combat anyway? I mean, one way or the other, we are all going to be in that final battle. I don't know about you, but I was never really good with old fashion weaponry."

Big Luke sighed and placed all the paperwork back in the folder. He slapped the folder back down on KATE's hood. He stared at it for a second, then back at us, then back at the folder. He ran his hand through his extremely short hair with his left hand and started fiddling with his 1911 in his holster. He pressed the button and lifted the weapon slightly, then dropped it so the button reengaged.

"OK, fine," he finally said. "You win. Give me a few to run back to my cabin. I gotta get my M16. Maybe the M40, too; considering the objective."

He started walking back up the stairs mumbling "This is fucking insane" to himself several times. Once he was gone, I couldn't hold my excitement.

"Boo-yah! We are getting the band back together!" I exclaimed.

"Calm down, bro. We still need to come up with a plan on how to take out this target," Brandon told me. _Leave it up to a spawn of Athena to always want to plan stuff._

Brandon and I continued to pack KATE's trunk and discussed the operation as we waited for Big Luke to get back.


	4. Chapter 4

Brandon

I was currently planning our exfill for the operation as Big Luke packed the trunk and David readied his M110 sniper rifle. The target wasn't too far away, he was held up in an condemned warehouse in Harlem. There were a couple of old, rundown, multistory buildings surrounding the warehouse. We would probably split up and be on several different rooftops.

I stepped away from KATE and moved over to a workbench. On the bottom shelf, we had several different optics lined up in case we needed them. I picked up a compact, rubber, 4X magnifier with a quick-disconnect mount for my Heckler and Koch 416 assault rifle and the EOTech holographic sight mounted to it. I took the optic out of the box and walked beside the great, big peg board with different weapons of all shapes and sizes.

Several of them I recognized: the MP5 I used a couple summers back, a Barrett M82 .50 cal, an RPG7, and several others that I don't really feel like listing. When I finally found the weapon I was looking for, I lifted it off the wall and checked the chamber and the magazine: loaded. _A gun that ain't loaded and cocked ain't good for nothin'._

I attached the scope to the rifle and then proceeded to lay it in the Charger's trunk.

* * *

Later, we were split up on three rooftops. It was around three in the morning and there was nobody in the streets below. I was on the shortest roof tops of the three, only about ten stories. Big Luke was on top of a fifteen story, abandoned office building across the street from mine. David was much further down the street, away from the condemned warehouse.

The target building was located on the opposite side of a T-intersection. Imagine the street we were above was the vertical section of the "T". The target building itself was at least seven stories tall. The top four of them being loft spaces.

"It's a trap, no doubt about it" I said through my radio.

"Yeah, they obviously don't realize that this isn't our first rodeo," replied Big Luke.

On the seventh floor of the warehouse, we could see through the window the target in a chair. His wrists were tied behind his back and there were dracaenae acting as guards around him. As I looked at the other floors of the building, I saw more monsters and a few PMC littered throughout the building. All in all, there were about eight or ten of them.

"OK, Smart One, what do you want to do? Do we go in low and slow or loud and proud?" asked David through his radio.

"I'm thinking low and slow on this one," I responded. "Hawkeye, stay put and provide overwatch. Red 5 and MacGyver will move in and get him out of there."

After Big Luke and I left our respective buildings, we stood on either side of the back garage door by the loading docks.

I looked at Big Luke through my GPNVG-18 night vision goggles over my eyes. We had finally had the chance to upgrade our night vision. These goggles had four tubes which widened our fields of view to about 100 degrees. I had to admit that we looked pretty bad ass.

Big Luke nodded and I pulled the door up with ease. _Red-alert! They knew we were coming. _I pulled the door open and Big Luke stepped inside first. The whole procedure was practically muscle-memory at this point.

We cruised through the first four floors of the building with no issue. We were especially thorough when clearing every nook and cranny of the place. We didn't want to leave any stone unturned.

The place was essentially two warehouse floors with a small offices in one corner of each floor. There were forklifts and old, expired boxes of product that I didn't bother to look too hard at. We cleared each floor without issue and moved on to the loft floors above.

These were more our speed. Clearing each individual room and meeting in one spot rather than clearing a big open area.

When we made it to the fifth floor, we came to a big wall that had a break on the right that went to the rest of the floor. We figured that this was where we were going to start having to shoot. The wall created a funnel which only aided the enemy.

We walked over to the break and hugged the wall with our left shoulders. This way, we could face the direction that David was. I was behind Big Luke as I peered around him. I pushed the stock of my 416 deep into my shoulder as Big Luke paused. _No sense in rushing into an ambush, _he would have said.

I turned up the volume on my headset so I could hear what was going on around me better. I _should_ have only heard two people breathing, Big Luke and I. But I actually heard four sets of lungs working hard to silence their low whisper.

There were two unknown lifeforms on the other side of the wall.

Big Luke looked out the window to where David was probably located.

"Hawkeye to Red 5: There is one Laistrygonian giant standing right on the the other side of the wall. If you drew your 1911 and pied the corner, you could take him out before he could react. There is one merc facing away from the break in the wall. I can take him first before you go for the pie," we heard David say through our headsets.

Big Luke just nodded slightly. Then he slowly set down his M16 onto his one-point sling and pressed the button on his hard plastic holster. Ever so slowly, he pulled the weapon out and held it with two hands; muzzle down.

"Engaging now," said David's voice just before Big Luke sidestepped a bid arch around the corner and opened fire with his 1911. Two half-dollar sized holes appeared in the glass window right next to Big Luke's shoulder.

Big Luke reholstered his 1911 and picked up his M16. Then he waved for me to move up with him. I peeked around the corner to a pile of monster dust and one dead mercenary laying face down in a pool of his own blood. I had seen this kind of thing before so I was used to the sight of the blood, brain matter and skull fragments that were splattered all over the floor.

We stepped over the body and cleared the rest of the floor. Then we walked up the stairs to the next floor. Halfway up though, we heard a CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! As a grenade tumbled down the steps.

"Back the fuck up!" Big Luke yelled as he shoved me out of the stair well.

We just made it out before the grenade went off. BOOM! I ran my hands all over my chest to make sure that I was all still there. It was.

Big Luke moved towards the staircase with his rifle raised. He fished out a flashbang and then tossed it up the stairs. We saw the flash and heard the bang before we ran up. We opened fire on the mass of PMC and various monsters. David's rounds came crashing through the windows behind us.

_This shit's too easy, _I thought was we moved towards the staircase. They were literally throwing troops away; wasting human life by sacrificing these soldiers to draw us into a trap. It's even worse that it's all going to be for nothing.

We made it up to the final floor and dropped the two dracaenae that were standing right next to the top of the stairs waiting for us. The son of a bitch, son of Ares was sitting there bound to the chair at the end of the room.

Craig had short black hair and brown eyes. He was probably a little shorter and a little heavier then me. His arms were slightly defined but he still had a bit of a tummy on him. The Camp Half-Blood t-shirt he was wearing was kind of a slap in the face to us.

Big Luke lined up his sights on Craig's head but he didn't pull the trigger. I could tell that he wanted to but he stuck to his orders and dropped his aim.

"Oh, thank the gods. You came!" he said.

"Yeah, we're here. Now, let's get the fuck out," said Big Luke as he walked behind Craig and cut him loose with his Ka-Bar.

"Wait! We have to get my sister out of the holding cell in the basement," Craig said as he stood from the chair and rubbed at his red wrists.

"What sister?" I asked. "We never knew anything about a sister."

"I'll show you. But I need a gun," beckoned Craig as he held out his hand.

Big Luke and I exchanged looks. I could tell that he didn't like this one bit. Giving a gun to a kid that we knew was planning on turning on us. We had every right not to trust Craig, but there was something in his voice that told me he was telling the truth.

I could tell that Big Luke hated me for this, but I fished out my M9 that I kept on my hip and handed the loaded gun t the traitor.

"I believe him," I told Big Luke as our eyes never left each others in the little stare-down we were having.

We looked back at Craig who did a full weapons check. Ejecting the magazine and pulling the slide back. He put it all back together again like he had done it a thousand times.

"Have you ever held a gun before?" asked Big Luke.

"Not till now. Weapons are just a common knowledge among spawn of Ares," replied Craig, looking over my handgun.

"Um, did I just hear what I think I heard? Did we just give a loaded weapon to a known traitor?" I heard David say through my radio.

"Yeah. Stay frosty," I replied quietly.

"So, come on! Let's go get my sister!" cheered Craig as he lead us down the several flights of stairs to the basement.

"Great. Now he's leading you guys right into the basement where I can't shoot him," said David sarcastically.

"Then come on in," Big Luke replied. "Give him a lift, KATE."

We followed Craig down the steps. He moved with both hands on my gun, muzzle down. He peeked around corners as if he was one of us... which he wasn't at all.

"Man, you guys really cleaned house," he said as we made it to the ground level.

We heard a door open and close loudly. Craig turned around really fast and pointed my M9 at the noise. We were about thirty paces away at this point.

"Stand down. It's just David," said Big Luke.

David jogged up to us with his hands ready on his MP7 sub-machine gun. He must have left his M110 with KATE. Craig dropped his aim and started for the hatch in the corner to the basement. He pulled it open and led the way down the stairs. Big Luke insisted to follow Craig. His body took up most of the narrow shaft so if Craig tried to pull a fast one on us, Big Luke would end up taking the majority of the bullets.

That was Big Luke's fatal flaw: self-sacrifice. He was willing to give his life to protect the ones that he cared about.

"Craig!" said the voice of a little girl.

"Ruth!" responded Craig.

A small girl, probably eleven or twelve years old, who was locked in a steel cage. One very similar to what David and I both spent several hours in two summers ago. Just a big cube made out of steel pipe and bolted to the floor. _This changes everything, _I thought.

"Step back, Ruth. I'll get you out of there," I said as I fished out one of my magical leather work glove and switched it for my right kit glove.

"Whatever that does; it's not going to work. The cage is enchanted. You need the key," Craig informed us.

"Alright. You and me will go get it," said Big Luke.

I shot him a subtle look that said, _Have you gone fucking insane?! _But he didn't seem to notice or care really. David looked to share my worry but he didn't say anything either.

"Um, okay," replied Craig awkwardly. "I'll lead the way."

Craig started up the stairs and Big Luke followed. Craig still had his hands on my M9 but Big Luke's M16 just sat in the plastic "C" that was attached to the right side of his plate carrier.

"He's got a death wish," David mentioned under his breath.

"Maybe," I replied.

"So, what's your names?" asked Ruth.

David and I turned around to Ruth who was grabbing a hold on the bars. She had the same black straight hair that her brother had only hers went down to her lower back. She also had the same dark brown eyes. She too was wearing a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt and jeans.

"I'm Brandon and this is David," I said.

"Oh," she replied. Then she paused for a second. "So, you guys aren't like the other campers. You guys some kind of Task Squad?"

BANG!... BANG BANG BANG! We heard gunshots from the floors above.

"Fuck it," I said, willing my glove to cool way down. I grabbed onto several of the bars and waited for the steel to freeze. When I gripped tighter, the bars crumpled like feta cheese. I did it to several of the bars so Ruth could squeeze her small frame through.

Then we raced up the stairs to see where the gunshots had come from... and who got shot. David led the way and I brought up the rear. We made our way through some large storage racks like you might see at a Costco. We were about to make our way into the center of the warehouse when David stopped to peak around the corner.

He quickly turned around and started to push Ruth and I back saying, "Get back. This is not something you should see."

I figured he was talking about Ruth so I pushed past him and looked around the same corner.

What I saw was not what I was expecting. Big Luke was standing over a lifeless Craig. Half of Craig's cranium had exploded. Blood and brains stained a cardboard box a few paces from Crag's body. My M9 was still in his loose one-handed grip.

Big Luke had his 1911 in hand and smoke was flowing out of the barrel, probably from the three rounds he fired. _He didn't just shoot him on cold blood. Did he?_

"This isn't good," I mumbled but Ruth overheard me.

"Why? What happened?" she pushed her way past David and ran out into the open.

Her jaw dropped when she saw her brother. Then she ran up and knelt down next to him. Her lower lip curled out as she broke down and started crying hysterically. She was trying to say something but it just came out as gibberish.

David and I ran up next to Big Luke who had knelt down on his right knee next to Craig's body. The expression on his face was not shock, not guilt or shame, but pitty.

"What happened?" Ruth managed to put together into comprehendable language. Rivers flowing from her eyes

"I didn't kill him," Big Luke responded. He took a deep breath. "We were making our way up to the next floor to get the key and a dracaenae with a scavenged AK popped out of nowhere and shot him. I drew my gun and sent her back to Tartarus before she could shoot me."

"Ooohhhhh," Ruth replied, going back to crying out in tragedy.

She had a little bit of a Jackie Kennedy moment when she scooped some of her brother's blood and tried to put it back in his skull.

She had seen enough. I walked around knelt down next to her.

"Ruth, we have to go and get you back to Camp Half-Blood," I said, lifting her up under her arms to her feet.

"We can't just leave him!" she yelled at me.

"We have no choice. We'll send someone back to retrieve him. I promise," I replied.

It was true. I mean, what were we going to do? Tie him to KATE's roof and pray that all the cops in New York had taken the night off? I didn't think so either.

Big Luke stood up and holstered his 1911. The look of pitty had changed to a expression of guilt. I didn't believe a single word of Big Luke's story. I didn't know if he killed Craig but he wasn't giving us the whole story, for sure.

David and I ushered Ruth out of the warehouse with Big Luke not too far behind. KATE was sitting outside the building next to the curb. KATE opened her passenger side door and I pulled it all the way open.

"Where is the target?" asked KATE through my headset.

"Later, KATE. Not now," I responded as I flipped the front seat forward so David and Ruth could sit in the back seat.

Big Luke stepped around and climbed into the driver seat, I claimed the shotgun seat. We drove back to camp to the quiet sobbing of Ruth and the rising sun.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's Note:_****_So, you might have noticed that I got a review written by someone other than myself (Yes, I post reviews to my own stories with updates on the stories or trying to get people to give me feedback). Someone, who was too cowardly to post a review with a real profile just wrote "Horrible". Didn't even give me any reasons why he thought it was bad or how I could improve. But I'm not going to let one, lonely troll who had nothing better to do than to bash my story, get in my way of finishing this. I will finish but like it says in the summary, updates will be slow to come as my high school's football team is going into the playoffs with a possibility of going to state. I also have to squeeze school work in there somewhere. So, I hope you enjoy and keep reading! Without further ado, here is Chapter 5!_**

Big Luke

When we finally made it back to camp. I parked KATE in the underground shop and we escorted Ruth to the Big House. The time was getting close for the first morning horn to be blown, so before we left the underground shop, we stripped ourselves of our kits and guns and left them there.

When we made it to the Big House, we went straight for Chiron's apartment. I rapped on the door a few times and Chiron trotted to answer the door. He took one look at the grim look on my face and then Ruth and realized that the operation hadn't gone nearly as planned.

He wasn't even surprised that I was there. Mainly because he came and told me that he had "left something in the shop for me" before we shipped off. I realized that he had wanted me on that operation all along.

He mimicked my grim expression and said: "Come in."

We filed inside and stood when Chiron offered us a seat. Ruth sat down on his office chair and replaced her head in her hands. The rest of us stood.

"What happened?" Chiron asked me. I was the leader, I had to answer the questions.

I told him the story, almost exactly how it happened. I replaced the words "tie up the loose end" with "rescue mission" to keep with my story. I wasn't about to admit that the mission the whole time was to kill Ruth's brother. Not in front of her. As far as I could tell, she was totally innocent.

When I got the part about Craig's death, I told him exactly as I told his sister, Brandon and David: a dracaenae shot him with a scavenged M4.

Afterward, Chiron offered Ruth a spare room in the Big House to stay in for a while before she rejoined her half-siblings in the Ares cabin. The newly-reformed Strike Team headed back to the underground shop to clean our guns.

We all sat around a table with gun parts and drinks sprawled out over it. I had a six-pack of Coors and David was sipping on a Coke. I made sure to stock the mini-fridge with plenty of Lipton iced tea for Brandon. No one talked for a while.

I guess I was drinking more than I was cleaning because Brandon called me out on it: "You lied."

"About what?" I asked in return.

"You lied about Craig," answered David.

"You're right. I did," I replied, finishing off my fifth beer even though I hadn't even finished cleaning my M16 yet. My 1911 still sitting on the table, waiting to be disassembled.

My mind flashed back to just a few hours ago:

I was following Craig back up the stairs. I knew this guy was a spy for Kronos' army and I was tired of playing this dumbass charade. When we made it back to the ground floor, I made sure the latch was closed good before we made our way into the middle of the warehouse. I still hadn't drawn my gun.

Once we had made it to the middle of the warehouse, I stopped.

"So, how'd they convince you to join their cause?" I asked and Craig stopped in his tracks.

He turned around slowly and pointed Brandon's gun at my face. I didn't flinch. I didn't move.

"How did you find out?" he asked, almost in a whisper. He knew what I was talking about.

"Chiron's intel told us that you were working for the enemy. We were originally sent here to kill you... or take you back to be exposed to the whole camp," I replied, my hands still at my sides. This is when I saw a strangely familiar twinkle in his eye. "So, what did they tell you? That you'd be rich? Famous? Did they tell you that they'd get your family back together?"

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I was just like you, Craig. They got into my head, too!" I said. "I used to be sneaking out of camp to go do whatever Kronos wanted me to do. I used to rob banks for those fuckers. I even turned on those two guys who are with me here tonight for them. All because Kronos told me that he could bring my mom back to life. After all that, you know what they did next?"

"What?"

"They tried to kill me."

"You're lying," he said, grinning ironically. "They would never do that. They swore!"

"Swearing doesn't mean shit to them," I told him. "Trust me."

"Well, if you came here to kill me, do it already!" he demanded, even though he still had the handgun to my nose. The grin now gone.

"Frankly, I could kill you right now and wouldn't lose sleep over it-"

"Well, if you're not going to do it."

That's when he put the muzzle of the M9 to his right temple. _That's where I had seen that before._

"Don't do anything stupid, Craig. There is a possibility that you could get out of this alive," I said.

This was weird. I wanted-so bad- to kill this traitor, but now I was trying to save his life... from himself.

"No. If you take me back to camp, they will kill me. If I run back to Kronos, you will kill me. I might as well end it all now," he said, that twinkle getting a little more prominent.

"Craig, think about your sister. How do you want her to remember you? You really want her to remember you as a coward?" I asked him, trying to get him to rethink his decision. Logic wasn't going to work, so I tried something that I knew he cared about.

"Tell her a story. She likes those. Make me sound like a hero or make it a fluke thing. For my sister's sake."

"That is a terrible way to handle it," I told him.

He didn't answer.

Then he shut his eyes and pulled the trigger on the M9, ending his life right in front of me. His body released and his knees buckled. He kind of turned as he landed on his back so he was laying perpendicular to me. His blood and brains spewed onto the boxes to my right. He looked relaxed, like he was sleeping. With the exception that half his skull had been obliterated. I didn't even hear the gunshot or his body hitting the concrete floor at my feet.

I drew my 1911 and fired three rounds at a wall to my right, away from the hatch. _This is a terrible way to handle this._

I watched as Ruth cried her eyes out next to her brother. Then she had asked me about what had happened. _For his sister's sake,_ I thought.

Fast-forward to now, I told Brandon and David what really happened. They seemed to believe me after that.

"You tried to save his life?" asked David. "What possibility was there for him to get out of it alive?"

"Well, if he would've come back with us and made some kind of deal with Chiron. He would still be here," I explained.

"Maybe," responded Brandon.

"What are we going to do with Ruth? She's not going to be the same without her big brother around to protect her," said David.

"They've been at camp for a while. She's got to have friends. Shouldn't she?" suggested Brandon.

"I don't know. Let's go talk to her," I answered.

We finished up cleaning our guns and headed back out into the world. Before we left however, we changed into our normal camp clothes. I wore my desert-style trousers with a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt tucked in. On my feet were my well-worn tan combat boots from my deployment. I had my 1911 on my right thigh and two spare magazines on my belt on my left side.

David was wearing his bright white Airforce 1's, expensive jeans and a another camp shirt. He re-spiked his hair in the mirror. His compound bow was slung over his back.

Brandon wore running shoes on his feet and a pair of khaki cargo shorts on his legs, his magical work gloves were hanging out of his back pocket. He was fiddling with a yellow livestrong wristband. He too was wearing a camp shirt.

We walked through the woods back towards the Big House. When we got there, we had to sneak around a little bit to avoid Chiron and Mr. D. Eventually, we made it to the room that Chiron had lent to Ruth. Brandon was in front and he paused to listen through the door. He turned and looked right at me and motioned for me to listen.

I passed him, stepping as quietly as I can on the hard wood floor, and pressed my left ear up to the door. I heard the expected sobbing from Ruth but the I heard something else: A boy's voice trying to comfort her.

"It's OK," the voice allayed.

"It just happened. Just out of the blue. One minute he's alive and the next he's laying dead on the floor," sobbed Ruth.

"I know. You can't always see it coming," the voice told her.

I swore I recognized the voice. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

I looked at Brandon and David. I didn't say anything just looked at them. I tried to ask a question: _Who the hell's voice is that?_

Brandon's face lit up like he finally put two and two together.

"Mathew," he mouthed, no noise coming from his throat.

My face mimicked his. I made an executive decision to walk into the room.

Sure enough, Mathew was sitting on the bed with his arm around Ruth. Ruth was sobbing into his shirt, hands gripping at the cotton. Now I know why Brittany says that I teach him too much.

"Hey," I said, almost a whisper as I crouched down in front of them. "I'd ask if you're doing better but I think I don't have to. I-I just want you to know that I did everything I could."

Ruth looked at me with teary, puffy eyes. Mathew looked at me with one eyebrow cocked.

"You were there?" asked Mathew.

I looked back thinking maybe Brandon and David had walked in with me. Apparently, they thought it best for me to do this on my own.

"Yeah. Long story," I answered.

Mathew just nodded and looked back at Ruth. "Hey, Ruthless? You think you're ready to go back to your cabin? I bet they miss you."

"Plus, they can help you through this," I added.

"OK," she said as she tried to pull herself together.

We stood up and walked out of the room. Brandon and David were still standing outside the door. They were both leaning on opposite side of the hallway and staring at the floor. Brandon had his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed. David was sitting on the floor with his arms crossed on top of his knees. They looked tired, worn out, over stressed.

"You guys go get some rest. It's been a long night," I told them.

They just nodded in agreement and stood up. They walked at a faster pace then Mathew, Ruth and I. I guess they really needed some sleep. We had all been up for at least twenty-four hours at this point.

I let Mathew take Ruth back to her cabin. I figured he was more than capable to handle that.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note:**__**So, the next few chapters are going to be of the Strike Team on the hunt for Percy Jackson. Eventually though, they will be in the battle of Manhatten like the rest of CHB. Thanks again and don't forget to review!**_

* * *

David

Things were slowly getting back to the way things were. About a week after we got back from Harlem, we started to rebuild the Kill House. Brandon and I both pitched in with the construction but most of the work came from the small army of about twenty automatons that Big Luke had working for him.

It was surreal to watch the Kill House and how it was being rebuilt. It had been so long since I saw it in its prime. I'm sure it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but it looked bigger and taller than it did before.

Remember when I said that we pitched in with the reconstruction? Yeah, we _tried _that but after I smashed my thumb with a hammer and Brandon spilled a can of paint, Big Luke sent us to "stuporvise". We were stationed in a double set of white poolside chairs with glasses of cold lemonade resting on the arm rests.

I was watching all the robots work; Brandon was staring at his motorcycle. Brandon got himself a 2005 Yamaha R1 as a graduation present. It was pearl white and nowhere near stock. He had a aftermarket exhaust system that ran under the seat and carbon fiber body panels. He shaved the rear view mirrors and turn signals to reduce drag. It used to have two nylon saddle bags slung across the back seat. I couldn't believe that he rode it all the way from Portland, Oregon.

"You really like that bike. Don't you?" I asked him.

"There's just something about being able to weave in and out of traffic at a hundred miles an hour that is just... orgasmic," he replied, still looking at the bike. "I don't think my mother would approve at all."

I chuckled at the last bit. "Yeah. She would probably call it 'illogical'."

"She's the goddess of _wisdom. _She's not Mr. Spock," he replied.

Just then, we heard the feint clomp of Chiron's hooves behind us. We looked up at him and he looked down.

"I see that you two aren't very busy. I need to talk with you and Big Luke," he said. "it's about Percy."

Brandon and I both sighed. Percy Jackson, the guy that was supposed to decide the fate of Olympus and, not to mention, the fate of all humanity. The guy who is also MIA. Not to mention: the guy that will probably be dating one the hottest girls in camp: Annabeth Chase. OK, so maybe I had a little crush on a girl almost two years younger than me. It's not like that it hasn't happened before.

I shook myself from my thoughts and continued listening to Chiron talk.

"...European front and I think that they are holding him at a ski resort in the Swiss Alps. Your mission is to camp out in and around the area while Big Luke and Brittany are inside undercover," explained Chiron. "If Percy is there, Big Luke will let you know and you guys will get him out."

"Is it smart taking someone who isn't a part of the Strike Team on an operation like this? I mean, these things can get pretty hairy," I mentioned.

"Believe me, I know that she is aware of the Strike Team. But it needs to be believable to any enemy troops in the area," Chiron replied.

"What happens if we don't find him?" asked Brandon.

"Then you come home. Tell Big Luke that his flight leaves early in two days. You two should consider jumping into the Swiss wilderness ahead of them," advised Chiron. "Good luck!"

And then he left. I looked at Brandon.

"Ever wonder who he gets all this crazy intel from?" I asked.

"Constantly," he answered.

"You ever gonna call him out on it?"

"Nope."

We downed the last of our lemonade and headed for the underground shop to start getting ready for the operation. We were about to walk down the stairs through the trap door when we heard Big Luke calling down from the unfinished rafters.

"Yo? What's going on?" he asked with his feet hanging off a two by four.

Brandon and I both briefed him on the situation from the ground. Percy Jackson was believed to be held hostage at a ski resort in the Swiss Alps. Our mission was to provide over-watch while Big Luke and Brittany went in undercover as a newlywed couple.

Big Luke cocked an eyebrow. I could see on his face that he was not looking forward to this operation. But he knew it had to be done.

"Alright, see you guys in Switzerland."

* * *

Several hours later, I am now looking out of a open cargo-hold. Staring at the frozen, holey sheets below us, thoughts of the operation fill my mind. The frigid air of the Swiss Alps and the altitude was nipping at my face, the only part of me that was really exposed. Everything appears to located near a forest fire, clouded by smoke. But then I realize that it's only my tinted Revision goggles.

Brandon, who is standing next to me, and I are dressed to operate in mountainous areas. Camouflage painted helmets protect our heads and provide a solid base for our night vision. We are both wearing thermal underwear underneath our black and gray BDU's and our plate carriers. Over our BDU's are white ghillie suits with patches of black and green jute in them. Yes, it was summer time. Yes, parts of the terrain were not covered with snow. But we knew that we were going to be high enough to stay out of the green.

Strapped laterally to my abdomen is Brandon's H&K 416. We were going to need it once we landed. Slung over Brandon's shoulder was a long and narrow rifle case known as a drag bag. It was designed to hold one or two sniper rifles and tied to a string or cord. The cord would be attached to one's belt and the bad would be drug as the person crawls. In the bag were two rifles: my M110 and Big Luke's M40. Parachutes weighed down hard on our backs.

I can see the mountains stretch out in front of us like a disease. Valleys littered the range like like green bullet holes.

We had been standing there for about three seconds. I looked at Brandon who was shaking quite substantially. He was nervous.

"Hey! It'll be alright!" I called over to him. "Remember how much fun you had the first time we did this?"

"That was two years ago, and I was attached to Big Luke!" he called back.

"Tell you what: I'll jump first and you pull your shoot when I do." My mom is a skydiving instructor so this was not new to me at all. "You gotta jump though."

I had a plan to make sure he jumped, I had 75 feet of parachute cord with a carabiner on each end. I had one end attached to the back of my belt. I walked up to Brandon's left side, facing. I gave him a reassuring tap on the shoulder with my right hand and subtly clipped the other end to his belt.

"It's going to be alright. Trust me," I told him. And then I jumped off the ramp of the C130 aircraft.

Seventy feet down, I felt my belt punch me in the gut as the rope became taught. I turned over in my freefall to see Brandon with a face of confusion and anger on his face as he tumbled through the air. I unclipped myself from Brandon and rolled back over to watch the mountains charge me.

I didn't use a GPS to judge my altitude. I figured once we passed the tops of the mountains, that would be low enough to pull the chutes. And that's exactly what I did. Once I had to look over my shoulder to see the tops of the mountains to pull the main cord. The harness nearly collapsed one of my lungs as my speed dropped dramatically.

Once we both had landed and packed up our parachutes, about twenty yards apart, Brandon walked up to me and punched my arm.

"You dick! I was going to jump!" he yelled at me in a whisper.

"I needed a little insurance," I teased him.

* * *

Several hours later, we were laying prone on an adjacent ridgeline to one that the ski resort was balancing on. The whole building appeared to be built like a log cabin, made completely out of timber. The whole thing was built like a giant U with a small courtyard in the middle. All of the suites looked out from the outside at the mountains. Every balcony had a hot tub. On either side of the resort were helipads. There were only two ways to get to the resort: snow machine/ trekking it in the snow or helicopter.

I was looking through my scope at room 310 where Big Luke and Brittany were going to be staying in. Brandon was not far away looking through Big Luke's M40's scope.

"Lookouts on the roof," mentioned Brandon.

I moved my line of sight to the roof. Several men were walking around with binoculars in their hands. Looking closer, I could see long thing rods protruding above the low wall; sniper rifles.

"Yeah. They got rifles too," I mentioned.

"If Percy is anywhere, he's going to be in the basement. Probably," Brandon concluded.

We were shielded by the two submerged boulders that flanked our left and right sides, from the winds that blew by. We had two tents down lower on the mountain where we planned to camp out for the night before Big Luke and Brittany arrived at the resort.

_**Author's Note:**__**OK, so i know that Percy was in Hades with Nico at this time, but the characters in the story don't know that yet. Chiron thinks that Percy is in Switzerland, so he sent the Strike Team to rescue him.**_


End file.
